


Lines in the Sand

by Dark_Frejya



Category: Sand Castle (2017)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Choking, Daddy Kink, Drama, F/M, Maledom/Femsub, Military, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Size Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26936821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Frejya/pseuds/Dark_Frejya
Summary: A sniping prodigy is sent out to camp Warhorse after a previous incident with her unit. Her new Captain is a hard man who likes things by the book and according to order. He ain’t got the patience for troublemakers.
Relationships: Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	1. Iron Maiden

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Sand Castle and/or Captain Syverson  
> A/N: This is a repost of my story from my tumblr account @littlefreya, please follow for more stories :)

Bad girl. 

That’s what they say she is; trouble, attitude problems. 

She heard all of it at psych evaluation. 

_'Prodigy'_ is another word they use for her. 

And sometimes even ' _asset'_.

She likes this one the most. It strips her of all human notions. 

That’s the only reason to keep her around, and it’s not like she has any desire to go home anyway. Home is tough. Here in the desert, surrounded by death and horny virgins - **that’s** the easy part. 

“Killing is easy,” she said to the military psychologist who had her profiled from head to toe before being transferred to camp _Warhorse_.

“Gallagher?” a young soldier calls toward her, huffing and covered with a sheen layer of sweat as he runs toward her. She glares at him bemused, holding the fresh new uniforms which she just collected from the storage unit. 

“Yeah?" 

The _boy_ 's face is lightly freckled, his big doe eyes seem untouched by war and his freshly shaven buzzcut shows he only just arrived. _'More meat for the grinder'_ she muses, just another kid who doesn't belong here, like the most of them. She knows the type well enough to write a thesis about it by now. If she thought she had any brain to do that sort of stuff. 

"Captain Syverson wants to talk to you.”

The kid looks her up, probably wondering why she even here. She got used to that type of stare a while ago.

“I just arrived here from another division” she explains, “didn’t even get into my uniform, what’s the _fucking_ rush?”

The kid shrugs, looking slightly terrified as if she is supposed to be scared of Captain Syverson and shouldn’t be talking that way.

“Fine…” she sighs heavily, lowering the tip of her army hat and rolling her eyes.

As a soldier serving at the professional US army, Gallagher knows she has a shit-ton of issues with authority, yet she wouldn’t be in any other place. 

* * *

The Captain sits at his office, wearing his favourite red t-shirt and army shorts that cut at his knees. A small portable fan is perched on his desk, pinning from side to side and blowing tiny droplet of sweat from his ridged forehead. 

During that time of the year, the temperatures reach a level that won’t shame the fiery pits of hell. Even a southern-born man like him an effort dealing with the heat, but Sy suffers quietly, not even mentioning a word of the weather. Small-talk is a waste of time, and ain't nothing but the pretence that people care when they don't.

“Captain, Sir,” the kid walks into his room, saluting the Captain. “I have private Gallagher with me.”

The young woman follows, a blank stare on her face. She salutes toward the Captain, looking robotic and so indifferent he can tell already she had a great potential of pulling some stunt and getting detained. 

“Thanks, Private Holt, you may leave now," he answers in a heavy southern accent, and voice low and rich like smoked Whiskey.

Holt leaves the room in a hurry, leaving Gallagher to stand quietly in front of the Captain. She has dressed in a plain white t-shirt and khaki field trousers while her eyes remain hidden beneath the tip of her hat. 

“Sit down, soldier." 

He commands, taking her file in his large dirt-stained hands.

She sits down quietly. Scanning the room with silence. It is yet another captain’s office, maps on the wall, guns and ammo. A "Slayer” labelled mug rests on in his desk with freshly brewed coffee, next to it is a deck of cards. No pinup girls posters apparent anywhere, not a perv unlike her former Captain, or at least he is hiding it in his bedroom.

He finally turns to look at her, manspreading on his chair with zero elegance or concern toward her. Why should she be treated any differently?

Captain Syverson is surprisingly a very attractive man. A big guy with broad shoulders and massive muscles. His cropped short hair does well to bring out his excellent bone structure while a few scars decorate his forehead and his upper left cheek. His strained face is covered with a thick, untamed beard which he strokes at his chin while thinking to himself. 

He takes one glance at her with his fierce blue glare, and then gives her his next command “Hat off, private.”

“Sir”. She replies with compliance, taking off her hat and placing it atop her folded uniform. 

One glance at her now exposed face, and he is forced to fight back a snort of laughter. He learned how to keep his emotions hooded in this job. She is petite, her arms may look strong yet quite skinny. And it’s quite a wonder that her skin is pale while serving in the middle of the fucking Iraqi desert. 

If this was anywhere else right now, he’d offer her a burger. This is the elite they’ve been speaking of? For fuck sake. Better be worth it. 

He is aware, of course, that she is pretty, they usually are. Chase and Annica for example. Sometimes he wonders if they send all the cheerleaders squad to his unit to fuck with him, since he can’t actually, fuck them. 

“That’s better”. He gives her a small smirk which quickly fades back into what seems like his usual grumpy face. 

“We’ll keep it short and honest, private,” he says, opening her file “You’ve been transferred here from your unit, they say you are a prodigy…”

“Take me out there, and I’ll shoot a rabbit between the eyes from 20 miles away.” she interrupts him, speaking coldly. 

“Did I give you permission to speak?” he asks her with slight anger. Never in his life, he had a young recruit dare to do so, especially not a woman.

She remains silent, knowing that’s actually the required response. For change, 

“Good. Your file shows amazing achievements” He throws her file in front of her with what seemed like an utter lack of actual interest “it also shows you have attitude problems.” His eyes meet hers as he says these words, his lips clasped to show some sort of severity. “Do you know what I want to know?”

Her blue eyes stare back into his with a dead gaze. 

He sighs, rolling his eyes “Permission to speak granted.”

“You want to ask if I’m going to cause any trouble.”

He nods, folding his arms together, his eyes travelling up and down her features for a mere second. 

“No, Captain.” She can’t promise him that even if a gun was pointed at her head, but she plays along. Everything in life is like her stupid video games anyway. Oh, she does miss those. 

“Good.” He gives her another hasty smile, the kind that doesn’t show any genuine care or affection and is just meant to move the conversation forward. “So you know why you’re here?”

“I’m very good with my sniper rifle, Captain." 

"It says you’re a fucking wonder”. He answers, not ashamed to curse in front of her, which she finds slightly refreshing. All the other men constantly apologize as if she doesn’t shoot people’s head-off for a living. As if women don’t see brutality as much as men do. Perhaps even more.

“Listen, I care about my men. Just live up to your name, be a good girl and you might just make daddy proud ”. He explains to her, not even regretting saying the finale part. It’s just how he talks and if she has a problem with that she might as well not be here. 

But she doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she replies with a small, nearly invisible smirk and nods. 

“Yes, Captain." 

The Captain’s eyes lit up with the charm of a child as he smiles widely for surviving yet another conversation with a new recruit and even though he has scruff all over his face she detects two large apparent dimples in his cheek.

Finally, he stretches from his chair and stands. She follows, noticing he is menacingly tall and seems to carry himself with sheer confidence and intimidation. 

"Come, I’ll show you your room." 

* * *

She follows him silently down the hall. He doesn’t bother with making any boring small talk which she is actually quite thankful for. It’s easier to not try to connect with people. The base is quite loud at the moment anyway, and she’d be unable to hear half of it.

"Men go here.” He points to one room by the end of the hall and then continues walking until they pause next to a closed room, “Ladies go here, you met the other girls?” he asks to which she shakes her head “Well you will. Girls get their own private shower in the room, in under no circumstances you are to use the collective shower room”

He pauses and turns to look down at her. Eyes growing sofer all of a sudden. “Anyone ever bothers you, says anything even slightly inappropriate, you come straight to me, you get it?” he asks her, managing to sound both severe yet still soft at the same time. 

“I’m just over there, by the end of the hall.” he looks to the other side, touching her shoulder without thinking, so she’ll face where he is pointing. His hand leaves her shoulder without any of them, giving it any attention. 

The Captain has his own little private kingdom at the end of the very house they turned into an army base, so it seems. She wonders if that’s where all the pinup posters are hidden at.

“Enjoy your stay, Gallagher”. He speaks, looking down at her face, wondering how long will it be before he has her in his office for some sketchy behaviour. 

“Thank you, Captain, I will.” she gives him another one of her forced smirks and turns away, walking into her new quarter. 

He takes one look at her as she turns from him, unable to resist his natural temptation to look at her ass. 

It’s small, tight, the way he likes it.

_'Yes, she’s gonna be trouble.'_

There are two girls in the room, sitting on their beds. A beautiful redhead with rather wide shoulders and strong arms. The other woman is somewhat petite as herself with tanned skin and beautiful dark eyes. They’re both looking quite curious to know her.

“The fuck is with your captain, walking around with severe big dick energy?!” she speaks out with sheer confidence.

The other girls look at her for a long moment, complete shock on their face by the content that came out of her mouth but then burst into laughter that can be heard all over the base. 

Clearly, she isn’t the only one who noticed.


	2. Live fast, Die Young

“Welcome to special forces unit, led by Captain BDE” the redhead, jumps from her bed and reaches out her hand. “I’m Annica Balzkowitz, but you can call me Blazko.” 

“Blazko is our driver, if she wasn’t enlisted she’d be robbing banks,” Chase answers, scribbling something in her notebook that looks like comic art. 

“And this hot piece of ass is Veronica Chase, recon team.” 

Chase raises her pen in the air and smiles with 2 huge dimples forming in her cheeks. 

Her eyes linger at Gallagher and her petite form. “You’re that sniper the Captain was talking about?” 

“Oh he mentioned me?” she raises her eyebrow mockingly, feeling a little bit more comfortable to see that both her new roommates are pleasant women with a healthy sense of humour. “And yes, name’s Jessica.” 

“Don’t worry, Jessica, no one gets in his pants, he just walks around like he can fuck every man and woman here but he is super about the rules and won’t even look at you.” Chase sighs “it’s a tragedy, really”.

“That’s why his arms are so big and strong”. Blazko teases, making Chase snore with laughter. 

Gallagher rolls her eyes, not at them but at the idea and then smiles slightly “He is not my type”. 

The two other girls nod with understanding and watch as she moves toward her bed. 

She places her uniform on the bed and lifts up her t-shirt. There is a long white scar at her chest, ending right above her left breast. Both Blazko and Chase glare yet say nothing, by the way, she behaves it doesn’t seem like something that deserves attention. She places her clean army shirt and then switches to wear her camouflage army trousers. 

“You know, if there are any guys you’re interested in, you could. Don’t listen to the Captain’s shit, he is just miserable that he can’t get his dick wet. You’ll just have to be careful and discreet.” Chase explains.

“Bitch, please, he probably has some frustrated housewife waiting for his dick at home. I bet he comes back to her every quarter to get her pump full of his seed.”

“Jesus, Blazko! Your mom knows you speak that way?” Chase asks with fake shock making Gallagher smile, a genuinely amused smile. “Also, no wife or girlfriend, I checked.”

“How?” Gallagher asks, trying to but into the conversation.

“Awwww now she’s interested!” Chase rolls on the bed, biting the tip of her pen with a joyful smirk “I asked Steven, they’re close. Syverson is single. He is…” she clears her throat and makes the best low-Texan accent impression she can “Married to the army!” 

“Steven?” Gallagher asks and then adds “and I am not interested, I’d rather fuck my sniper rifle.” 

“Steven is Chase’s McDreamy.” Blazko explains “anyway, don’t let the Captain push you around, he is a hardass but he is not an asshole, he cares about his people. He just likes it when things go down smoothly and by the books.”

“Got it.” Gallagher smirks shortly, knowing very well that if he is that much of a hardass and by the books, she will be a problem for him sooner or later. Her last trick got her detained for 3 months, she finished the whole Song of Ice and Fire books by then. It’s as if she has that trigger inside her that goes off whenever she is not next to her sniper rifle killing people. Ironic, is it not? 

She laces back her black boots and then mutters under her breath “Fuck”.

“What’s wrong?” Blazko asks, slight concern in her eyes.

“I left my stuff in the truck outside, I’m just gonna go and get my gear before it ships out with my backpack and I’m left with one pair of underwear.” she points toward the window.

“You can always ask Syverson for a shipment of new ones, and tampons, he loves when you ask for that stuff.” Chase provokes. 

Gallagher rolls her eyes, even though the idea of asking a masculine alpha-like Syverson for girly products does seem like a hilarious idea. She imagines his reaction, probably pissed or confused. Somehow even the toughest men who saw trauma injuries can’t deal with that stuff.

_Maybe later…_

Outside the air is dry and dusty. She marches toward the truck and finds her backpack already thrown on the floor next to the huge wheel. Her entire belongings in the whole world are in that bag. Mostly undergarments for replacements, toothbrush and notebooks. Whatever is at home in New York she doesn’t even remember having. Haven’t gone home since Christmas and now it’s the end of August. 

She puts the large backpack on her shoulders and walks back to the barracks with ease, passing some recruits on the way who stare and say nothing. As she passes through the hall she sees Syverson still in his office, he doesn’t notice her, playing Texas hold ‘em with some other guy. He laughs at a joke and a huge grin spreads across his face.

He has a nice smile, she muses, for a moment and then denies it and continues on. Not bothering to give him any other thought.

***

The first night in her new base goes as “smooth” as any other. The hour is 3:20am on her watch. She sighs, wiping her hand over her forehead to wipe away the sweat. She can hardly remember when was the last time she slept for an entire night. 

Chase and Blazko are long gone into a deep sleep. She is glad she hasn’t woke them up by making any sounds like she used to, or maybe they are just really strong sleepers? Hopefully.

She coughs silently, realizing her throat as dry as the desert outside. The bottle of water she held by her pillow is empty so she decides to tip-toe her way outside the room to get water from the canteen. If there is anything she absolutely hates it’s waking people up. 

The barracks are completely silent, the lights dimmed to not draw any dangerous attention, yet she knows there are at least 3 patrol units outside at this time. One on the rooftop, 2 walking on the ground. Sometimes soon her turn to patrol would come up. Oddly enough, she loves patrol duty, she gets to see the stars and it’s not like she could sleep.

She walks barefoot to the canteen, getting her water from the cooler and then paces back slowly down the hall. The hallway looks so serene and so peacefully cold. 

It feels like home.

Her eyes blink at the closed door at the end of the hallway. The bed chamber of the king. She snorts silently when suddenly something soft and warm rubs against her leg and she holds her mouth not to scream as her heart skips a beat.

“Don’t worry, she won’t bite unless I’ll command it.” She hears the deep rich Texan accent call behind her.

A large German Shepherd circles her legs, nearly causing her to lose balance and fall forward. 

“Ika, to me!”

The large dog runs back to her master, panting with joy as he pets her head lovingly and allows her to lick his hand.

Perhaps that’s the Captain’s wife. She fights back an amused smile while facing him with her back, humoured by her own joke.

“Why aren’t you in bed, Gallagher?”

Too embarrassed to salute in her pyjamas, she only turns her head back to him slightly. She is in fact in shorts and a tank top. Normally she’d wear long sweat pants to not draw attention, but she only meant to be out of the room for a second. She’ll probably get shit for that, for being inappropriate, even when she doesn’t want to get into trouble she manages to fuck up somehow. 

“I woke up.” She answers, nearly saying _dad_.

The captain stares forward, avoiding eye contact or the chance to stare at the exposed parts of her body as any man in the army would do by now. The strained muscles of his face show perfect control and his blue eyes seem icy and tedious.

Just when he thinks he is off the hook Ika decides to make a turn and go back to Gallagher, rubbing against her and then licking her bare legs with excitement. 

He sighs silently 

_Too friendly_

Gallagher leans down, petting her head and he finally allows himself a short glance, only for a small second he sees it, dimples on her cheeks as she smiles.

“She’s yours?” She runs her hand down her fur slowly, feeling the length of soft hairs between her fingers. The dog’s fur is sprayed with green paint.

“She belongs to herself” he speaks coldly “but yes, she likes to be with me, sleeps in my room.”

“And you paint her green, because?…” 

She turns her head to him, a look of intrigue in her eyes. He is wearing the same outfit as before, with a gun shoved to the side of his belt. He stares at her coldly and she breaks eye-contact pretty fast, turning back to gaze into Ika’s warm eyes instead.

“Lot’s of strays around here, wild and pissed off. They shoot them on site. Green dog means good dog. Anyone shoots a green dog, they answer to me.” He explains, watching Ika as she enjoys a full belly rub.

“Go to sleep, Gallagher, training tomorrow at 7am sharp.” he commands “We wanna test your skill”.

Hearing his words she stretches up her spine in a second and stands up, test your skill? We? Is he fucking kidding? She clenches her jaw, fighting the urge to tell him to go and fuck himself. 

“Yes. Captain, sure.” She answers, failing to hide the unmistakable spite in her voice.

He frowns at her reaction yet decides not to act on it right now and let her off without a warning. If she’s smart enough she’ll soon learn who’s her Captain and how she should behave.

“Dismissed” 

He watches as she steps into her room with stiff shoulders, not saying any other word. He imagines she is probably saying plenty in her mind. 

A deep sigh escapes his lips as the door closes and she disappears from his sight. He makes a sound for Ika to follow him back to his bed-chamber where he can get his peaceful 3 hours of sleep. 


	3. Bad girl do it well

Captain Syverson said to be at the training ground at 7 AM sharp. Thanks for the charming chat they had last night she didn’t get any sleep whatsoever, being too pissed and angry, thinking of all the nasty things she would have said to him if he wasn’t her Captain. **  
**

_Fuck_ , she would have punched his broad chest if she could. 

“Smug motherfucker” she mutters angrily.

It’s her 5th attempt to tie her long brown hair back, for the obvious stressful reason she simply can’t get it right. 

“For fuck sake…” she utters already pissed up at the captain before she even saw him this morning. _Fuck it, and fuck **him**._

“You ain’t ready, yet? Let me.” Chase grabs her hair, pulling it back roughly and wrapping it with the hair bend in less than a second. 

“Ow!” Gallagher cries out and tilts her head back and forth to make sure her head looks okay. She looks like shit in her own opinion, the lack of sleep apparent, dark circles around her irritated eyes. Not that she cares that much what she looks like. 

“C’moooooon” Chase growls at her, putting her rifle on her back and gesturing at Gallagher to take her weapon as well. As she finishes taking her equipment, the other girl grabs her arm and pulls her out of the room. Chase is pissed but in a delightful way, not letting her anger out on other people but more on the environment itself. She becomes hasty, running around while making small grunts. 

Gallagher finds it rather compelling.

Outside is even hotter than it was the day before. The sun is in the middle of the sky making Gallagher squints her eyes and lower her hat to cover them. 

Chase rushes her toward the training ground where they do their target practice. “Let’s go, you don’t want the Captain extra pissy this morning.”

They enter through the large gate into a dusty field which is populated by wooden targets, marked by red ink for practice. The rest of the unit is already there, all armoured for training, about 14 men who all seem to be waiting for them. 

“Captain can go and fuck a hole in the sand” Gallagher answers.

“Thank you for deciding to join us, Gallagher” he appears right behind her, making her heart fall to her underwear. 

_**Fuck** _

The condescending look on his face assures her he heard her. His arms are around his chest, his eyes looking down at her in a look that says one thing: “I can break you for this”. But his lack of reaction only sparks more intimidation.

He lifts up his chin, gesturing the girls to stand with the rest of the unit and watches as they hurry. 

Gallagher realizes she hasn’t had the chance to meet anyone in her unit except for the girl and Holt. By the looks, she is receiving, he already went off and mentioned her to the rest of them. 

She doesn’t mind the company of men, growing up with men, being raised by one and serving in the army with them. This does nothing to intimidate her.

Still, none seem to bother introducing themselves at the moment, all obedient with their eyes pinned at the Captain. There is some twisted admiration there. 

_Daddy issues_ , all of them she muses.

Captain Syverson walks in front of them with his hands around his hips. He is wearing an army green shirt that’s tight to his body, making his ripped muscles show. All she can think of is that he looks impressively larger than he did before or maybe it’s just the lack of sleep or the fact that he just hears her say he can go and fuck a hole in the sand.

One thing is for sure. If you’d put all of them in a straight line it’d be easy to tell who is the alpha in the group. 

“Listen up, we haven’t had a solid mission in a while other than the regular recon patrols. I don’t want anyone getting rusty.” he swallows, his eyes meeting Gallagher for a split second, she wonders if this has to do with what she just said. “Now something is brewing underneath the surface, things are too silent and I want my men… and women” he adds with a tiny apologetic grin “to be prepared.” 

Walking back and forth as he speaks, finally, he pauses in front of a white line of paint on the sand. “Gallagher, since you are the last to join us, you should go first. We are just dying to see your skills in action.” his fingers wave in the air, gesturing her to come hither. 

Her eyes widen with surprise, a small unpleasant tickle runs through her throat making her swallow the dry lump in her throat. She never feels insecure, so why now? 

“With what rifle, sir?” she asks, attempting to keep her voice strain, not trying to let her real emotions shine out. 

He bites the inside of his cheek, thinking about it for a moment. He has no doubts she is good, they wouldn’t send her to him if she wasn’t, yet a lesson needs to be taught. A little bit of humility won’t hurt her in becoming a better soldier. 

“Grab the M9 from over there.” 

“The M9?!” she calls out with disbelief. The M9 is a tiny handgun with a small impact. But she realizes in seconds this is just a part of his humiliation routine and questioning his decision was yet another test she just failed miserably.

“Yes, sir.”

She reaches to grab the M9 from the display of weapons laid on the desk in the shade. He follows her with his eyes, noticing the “raccoon eyes” and her even grumpier than before face. 

“Here.” he gestures with his foot where to stand as she returns with the handgun. 

Holding her jaw clenched she follows his instructions, standing in front of the white line while loading her gun. His presence is felt as he stands behind her, his breath heavy from the heat and it’s as if her senses are heightened right now because his breath makes her edgy.

Wrapping his large arms together he stares at the top of her head and at the targets in anticipation to see her work in action. Being the Captain he was always feared and respected by his men, being hard of them was mainly for their own sake and their success within the team. But they never speak back, she, however, dares to be openly disrespectful and a large part of him want to see her fail, so he can teach her a lesson, yet the other needs her to be as good as he was told.

He stares at her as she reaches her weapon forward, pulling the trigger in preparation. It’s all just wrong, she’s clumsy, careless.

“Your posture is unstable, private,” he mentions, moving closer behind her, so close that can feel the heat of his body radiating against her own. It makes her irritated. She tries to stabilize herself, whatever that means, her arms feel slightly weak and heavy all of a sudden. 

“Still unstable, Gallagher,” He criticizes, pointing right above her head to the target “What happens if you miss that shot?”

He is so fucking close now their bodies are almost touching and she can smell his sweat.

“I won’t miss I never do” 

“You will. The enemy hears you, surprise, you’re dead, your friends are dead” he lectures her in a commanding voice.

“I know what I’m doing, I’ve done this a hundred times.” She takes a deep lingering breath. She is not an idiot, he is trying to get to her, to make her doubt herself. She won’t let him. 

“Spread your legs” He commands. 

Before she even has the time to analyze the shiver that just befell her spine his foot kicks between her legs, spreading them apart by force.

She lets out a small unwanted gasp as her body falls lower. Strong enough for him to hear and see how her chest sinks in with fright as he glares down on her. For a moment there he thinks of how small she is compared to him but he brushes that thought of, knowing it doesn’t matter out there on the field.

“Eyes to the front.” 

“I am not a trainee…” She hisses, royally pissed off by his behaviour. 

“You are to me.” He states without any hesitation, thinking she should get the fucking message by now of who is the boss.

She feels herself growing angrier and angrier, her heart racing, sweat collecting under her hat and stinging in her eyes. In a moment of outrageous fury, she takes a deep breath, shutting her eyes, collecting all her thoughts and turning them to nothing. Taking complete control over this moment, she ignores his existence and opens her eyes again, she shots all targets one after the other in the middle of the marked spot. Anger is written all over her body yet the moment her hand was on the trigger she was focused, clear. 

The sound of gunfire echoes in the empty air while each target stands pierced right in the middle. The men stare with complete shock, impressed by her skill, each and every one of them dying to react but the tension on the field forbids them. 

Syverson looks anything but pleased. Wearing his usual grumpy face as she basically ignored each and every one of his instructions. He won’t let her see how impressed he is in a million years.

“What was that?…” he grabs her upper arm and turns her to face him. Noticing how small she is in his hand and aware that others are staring he lets go immediately and leans down to look at her face with sheer anger.

“Making daddy proud.” She half whispers, just so both of them can hear. Here comes trouble. 

But he is not amused, not even by little, his nostrils flare, his arm reaches up and points to the team “Get back to your unit, private, I’ll deal with you once this session is over”. 

He seeks for fear in her eyes but all he can find is a half-bored expression.

As she walks back to the unit she looks in the eyes of her team members, some attempt to smile but hold back. It’s obvious they can’t react right now, out of respect to their captain. He observes her as she walks somewhat full of her handy work. 

With his hands on his hips he calls out the next soldier, his mind now troubled with how he can break her into obedience. 

Chase leans next to Gallagher and whispers to her “you know we all saw that, right? The fuck was that?”

Gallagher shrugs “Wanted to teach me a lesson of some sort. Show me who is in charge.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen porn that starts that way… OW!” Chase cringes as Gallagher’s elbow meets her stomach. 

The captain turns to stare at them from afar, frowning as he notices them behaving which causes them to pretend nothing happened. But it’s hard to pretend when all that plays in her mind over and over again is how he kicked her legs apart and that odd fear and rush of blood that went through her in that second.

“Hey, Gallagher?” She hears someone whispers behind her. She turns around, looking at a short bald guy who gives her the thumbs up. It makes her smile with slight pride. In all her life, this is the one thing that she was good at.

It takes an hour into the burning sun but target practice is finished. Syverson stands in the middle of the field, looking at his unit as they await his orders.

“All dismissed, return to your duties and await further instruction from Staff Sergeant Harper. Gallagher, your behaviour here this morning earned you a day of cleaning the barracks toilet,” he commands, nodding his head and looking at each one of his soldiers.

Each but Gallagher.


	4. Doin' Time

The large German Shepherd lies peacefully on the floor, trying to cool off and watching while he goes through logistics. _This_ is the part of the job that keeps him awake at night. Not the war, not the constant risk. It's making sure that his soldiers have enough armour, ammo, food and supplies. And even though, there are people beneath him who assigned to inventory check, it will always be up to him to review and sign the documents.

Fuck ups are not acceptable. 

Darkness fell a couple of hours ago, yet he hardly even notices. His mind has been running back and forth, his concentration constantly lapsing as he keeps returning to thinking about her. There is something familiar in that flaming hatred in her eyes.

_'Do not dwell on it.'_

He is fully aware of the fear his men hold for him, but he knows it derives from respect. Gallagher, on the one hand, seems terrified. The night before he could have sworn she was shaking like a leaf, she didn’t even turn to look at him, But then she goes around acting like complete _shit-head_ and making lewd suggestions of things he may fuck.

_'Sand? I prefer something wetter than that.'_

This type of behaviour just won’t do. Sy needs everyone in his unit to be aligned; otherwise, he is putting his men at risk. Rolling a pen between his fingers, he wonders if perhaps he is going the wrong way about her. Maybe this whole act is nothing but a ‘hungry for _daddy's_ attention’ game she’s playing and the only thing she requires is someone to be brutally honest with her.

Getting onto his feet, the Captain locks his office and makes his way to the men's toilets. 

The tiles in the room are greenish-yellow, and he is not sure if it has always been or became that way from the amount of gooey bacteria and decay. The stench of cleaning products and shit carries onto the air, causing him to curl his nose. Gallagher is found on her knees, finally doing what she's told and scrubbing the side of a rusty seat forcefully. The exposed parts of her skin glisten with sweat, her shade now pink from effort and exhaustion. 

He leans against the door frame with somewhat amusement while watching her work. Surprisingly she did a rather good job cleaning, better than the men who got the same punishment before. A silly joke runs through his head, though he keeps it to himself. He is not a sexist pig or would ever disrespect a woman, but he can also never imagine what women go through, which sometimes makes him feel like he could say the wrong thing without intending. 

“Squeaky clean,” he calls out, a faint grin appearing on his face.

Gallagher pauses her scrubbing but never lifts her head, uncertain if she should salute her captain with rubber gloves and shit on the knees of her trousers.

“Captain Syverson, Sir.”

“You can stop now, Gallagher,” he commands, his voice slightly softer than what she’s used to. 

He glances as she removes her yellow gloves, throwing them into a bucket and then getting up and looking at him with a bemused stare on her face. He realizes he has her alone in the men’s room with him blocking the exit. 

But then she stands straight and salutes, finally lifting her gaze to make eye contact with confidence.

“Private, when we first met a day ago, I thought we have an understanding. Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough,” he begins, observing her reaction to see if she’s gonna make a face or open that bratty mouth of her to say something snide, but t his great surprise she remains silent, listening to his words carefully.

“You are a part of the special forces unit, people don’t get here by mistake. Each one of my men and women is talented, skilled kids. I care about every one of them,” he gazes into her eyes sincerely.

There is that thing again; that familiar wind of chaos in her blue ocean.

She’s a ticking bomb if he’s ever seen one. She needs to be tamed. 

“I just don’t get why you think I’m full of shit then,” she retorts, shooting right what’s on her mind.

He frowns, tilting his head like a dog would do to get a better understanding of the situation. 

“Did I say that you are full of shit?”

Anger washes over her again, can’t be he is pretending to be so oblivious. Without thinking too much, she takes a few steps closer, looking straight up into his confused eyes. 

“Didn’t have to, testing me on my 2nd day, humiliating me on the field in front of everyone as if I don’t know how to stand? Which by the way, Captain, snipers do their sniping by lying on the ground, which of course you know, so next time bend me over.”

She immediately regrets saying that. 

As he regrets her putting that mental image in his head. 

“Didn’t mean it like that, Captain,” she puts her hand in the air in apology, swallowing hard and looking down on the now clean floor. She awaits some immediate response about inappropriate communication, but none follows, and she is not sure if it’s a good thing. Her cheeks begin to burn.

Slighty nervous, Syverson runs his hand on his beard, he hasn’t even given that earlier incident a thought. 

_'That gasp that came out of her mouth, the way her breasts sank into her chest with fear.'  
_

“Private, if I made you feel uncomfortable that wasn’t the point,” he explains, crossing his large arms together.

“Didn’t make me feel anything, captain.” 

“Good.” He ignores the situation bluntly, “Sooner, or later this won’t be a test, we will be out there on the field, I need to know I can trust you with my life and with my team’s life like you would trust me”.

The look on his face is incredibly sincere, the way the word 'trust' rolls out on his tongue is similar to how someone would speak about someone they love, and she is willing to be trusted again, for a change, if only she could trust herself. 

Giving him a quick glance she nods. “I won’t let you down"

“No, you won’t.” Syverson shots back, “go get cleaned up, you are off duty for tonight.” 

Being in a rather awkward position, he only moves slightly from the door, allowing her to have enough space to pass through. 

“Oh, Gallagher," He calls just before she leaves.

“Yes, sir?” she pauses, looking up at his face. He is close, the scent of his musk filling her nose.

“Make this the last time I’ll have to punish you like this.”

*~*

Gallagher's words haunt him as he lies in bed once finally being off duty. The shuddering hiss of her gasp playing in his head over and over again, the way her legs spread and she tensed with fear. He shouldn’t have done any of that, but Gallagher pissed him off more than any person he ever had to command, and he wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t thinking of her _that_ way. 

_'Damn it.'_

Women hate it when you treat them like women and then hate it when you treat them like men. 

But then she had to put that thought in his mind, of bending her over, on the ground. 

And it’s been a long, too long. He shut himself off from the idea of sexual encounters, least to say romantic relationships for the last couple of years. And he tried to respect the women he served with by not thinking of them in that way, but then she fucking put that thought in his head, and his mind trails off to other reasons in which he would kick her legs apart and hear that delicate gasp again. 

He closes his eyes, reaching his hand beneath his boxers to find his rigid cock and groans deeply as his fingers wrap around it. The fact that she is so disobedient makes it worse, waking a dormant desire to dominate her. 

His hand runs down his shaft, and he licks his lips.

_'It’s wrong. But you are just a man…'_

He hates her right now, even more than he hates himself. 


End file.
